Pink
by Cas-Wings
Summary: Dean and Castiel had a happy life together in Berlin. Moving from the states in 1929 to escape homophobia, they find freedom in the far more accepting environment Germany provides. This liberation, however, proves to be short lived, when the two are suddenly sent to a concentration camp twelve years later, where they struggle under the weight of the pink triangle they bear.
1. Arrival

_((This work is on an extremely sensitive topic, and in this, I will continuously strive to keep this story respectful. There will be homophobia and misogyny throughout this story. These views in no way reflect my own as an author, but were simply a product of the times. They were wrong views back then, and they are wrong views today. This story will contain violence, gore, starvation, and many different forms of human suffering. There will be visible trigger warnings at the beginnings of each chapter these are mentioned in. I am writing this story to show what homosexuals went through in concentration camps, as their story is often brushed off or not considered. I write this with the wish to change that fact, to educate people on what these prisoners suffered through. I have done extensive research, and will continue to do extensive research throughout the process of this story to ensure all historical events are accurate, on date, and respectful to those who suffered through this horrible string of events._

_This story, from start to finish, is dedicated to and in honor of the 100,000 homosexual individuals who were arrested, the 35,000 who were sentenced to prison, the 5,000-15,000 who were sentenced to concentration camps, and to all those who perished in these situations.))_

* * *

In 1934, a list of names was drawn up by order of the Gestapo, unbeknownst to everyone who wasn't gathering the information. Its sole purpose was to eradicate homosexuals from the German population, under penal code 175. However, at the time, no one was any the wiser to the workings of homosexual persecution under the new Nazi regime. In fact, Berlin, Germany was viewed at the time as a safe place for homosexuals, as a place to be partially free from the homophobic hatred that was spread almost worldwide. This promise of liberation, of happiness, was precisely why Dean and Castiel moved from the quiet town of Lawrence, Kansas, to the bustling streets of Berlin only five years earlier.

They had begun as friends in college, fresh and young at the transitional age of nineteen. Dean and Castiel both had been reluctant at first to accept their feelings for each other, but soon discovered something beautiful between them, something that could not be mistaken: they were in love. And in love they remained for their four years of college, until they both made the decision to move to Berlin. It would be better that way, they decided, and once they moved to Germany, they would be able to have more freedom. Of course, they would still take extra precautions to avoid ridicule, especially because they planned to live together. But all in all, it would be marginally better, and after taking a little over a year to learn enough conversational German to get them by, after finding available jobs and an apartment, the two men bid their families a short, unquestioned goodbye and headed across the globe.

_July 14, 1929_

"Wow," Castiel breathed, blue eyes trained on the almost equally colored water at the harbor, "I've never seen the ocean before."

Dean smiled, shifting his suitcase to his left hand so he could fix his soft cotton shirt, which was beginning to come untucked from his pressed slacks. "Me either," he replied, attention suddenly turned from Castiel to a loud, low-pitched whistle coming from their ship, signaling its readiness to depart. "But I'm sure we'll be seeing plenty of it on the boat. Come on, let's go get settled up."

Castiel nodded, returning his boyfriend's smile as they made their way towards the barge, the warped wood giving the pier an almost rubbery feel under the leather shoes they wore. It took a bit of time, but the two men were soon settled in their cabins, which were located only three doors apart for the ten-day trip ahead.

"Are you sure we're not just crazy for doing this?" Dean asked later that same day, leaning against a cool metal railing on the side of the ship.

"Well," Castiel responded, not taking his eyes from the pink sunset before them, "I think it'll be better for us. What could go wrong?" Dean simply smiled, wishing in that moment he could reach over and hold Castiel's hand. Perhaps they could openly do so in Berlin, if the situation deemed it appropriate. Either way, he was satisfied with the decision they had made, despite his slight hesitation in the face of what was already in progress, what would be difficult to adjust to. Not responding verbally, Dean followed Castiel's gaze and turned his green eyes to the setting sun, breathing in deeply to enjoy the salty tang of the air. "I think you're right," he said eventually, licking his lips in poor habit, "nothing's gonna go terribly wrong. I think we'll be happy."

Castiel, in response, turned to face Dean, daring to brush his fingers along the other man's arm. "We will," he declared, thinking for a moment about his next words. "Von nichts kommt nichts." Dean, brow furrowing in puzzlement, worked for a moment to translate the words from German to English. "Nothing comes from nothing?"

"Exactly. If we don't try, what there is to gain we won't be able to experience."

"That makes sense. Where'd you hear that, anyway?"

"When we were learning. I found it in the back of that old German guidebook."

Dean chuckled softly at Castiel's response, watching as shadows crept along the strong lines of his boyfriend's features. "I like it. You know," he said, smiling, "I learned a saying too. Zwei seelen und ein gedank, zwei herzen, und ein schlag."

"Two souls, one thought, two hearts, one beat?"

Nodding, Dean looked around to ensure they were alone and took Castiel's hand in his. "Basically, it means soul mate. It means I'm telling you you're mine."

Castiel squeezed Dean's fingers at the meaningful words and felt a smile break over his features, his chest feeling light and happy with the consistent pounding of his heart. "And you're mine," he replied, looking up to meet the other man's eyes. "Ich liebe dich."

"I love you too, Cas. Always will."

They watched the rest of the sunset hand in hand, the view only lasting another minute before darkness swallowed the world around them, leaving only the moon to suffice as a light source until morning. Although they were tired from the travel of the day, both men were reluctant to retire into their cabins until morning, and in this found themselves in Dean's room together. They knew they shouldn't do much physically while on the ship; they had earlier concurred it would be too risky. However, their decision meant in no way that they couldn't spend time together; they simply had to be cautious.

Somewhere along the way, Dean had managed to find a portable radio for the trip, and promptly pulled it from his suitcase. "I figured," he said, setting up the bulky device on the nightstand, "that we won't be hearing a lot of music in English when we get there, so we might as well take advantage while we still can."

Instantly smiling, Castiel looked to Dean for a long moment, simply admiring the thoughtfulness of the other man. "That's a great idea," he replied, settling back happily in a chair as the happy, big band swing music of George Olsen's _A Precious Little Thing Called Love_ filled the small space.

Dean, a charming grin spreading across his face, extended his hand to Castiel with an exaggerated bow. "Would you care to dance?" Castiel, laughing softly at the seemingly ludicrous offer in the tiny cabin, took Dean's hand and stood. "Here?"

"Why not? C'mon, live a little." Dean replied, flashing Castiel the dazzling smile he only used when he needed to be convincing. As expected, it worked, for Castiel then relented to be pulled into his arms for a proper dance to the lively music.

It was a short song, and was enough to leave them flushed and happy, not out of breath and worn. It was perfect, as they considered each other. Both knew it was slightly foolish to be so enamored of one another, but when they were together, each felt he couldn't help it. It was as if nothing could ever shatter what they had together, as if everything was right in the world. And maybe it was. Maybe, they were always meant to be together, like in those cheesy romance novels the college girls were always swooning over. Perhaps fate was real, or perhaps it was by chance they had met five years previous. Whatever it was, it worked.

The time spent on the ship, which was only four days shy of two weeks, was often boring for the two. It wasn't a cruise ship, nor was it a luxury liner. It was simply a transport for a few passengers and cargo, which left the men with next to nothing to occupy them. Of course, spending four years in college had allowed them the skills for hours of reading and sendentation, and as a result it was what they did most of the days between spending time together and attempting to manage Dean's seasickness. The radio seemed to go faulty for a few days, but soon was back up and running, despite the fact most of the stations were in German. They understood enough, and the music was fairly familiar, which helped them continue their nightly routine of meeting and occasionally dancing in Dean's cabin. All in all, it wasn't the most pleasant way to travel, but it worked for their needs, and before the two knew it, their day of arrival had come.

_September 16, 1929_

Dean and Castiel had been comfortably settled into their small apartment in Berlin for a little under two months. Dean was working at a factory as a supervisor, and Castiel was writing small columns for the local paper. It was difficult, at first, to put their knowledge of speaking and writing German into practice, but it quickly became easy, routine; normal. As they expected, Berlin had many places in which they could freely express their partnership without getting ridiculed. In fact, they were even able to find a bar which held nights for homosexuals every Sunday. It was fun and freeing to be able to hold hands without someone yelling slurs at them, so they often returned. It was peaceful.

_December 25, 1929_

The apartment the two men shared was by no means perfect. Nail holes decorated the walls from previous tenants, the faucet squeaked when turned on, and the carpet was just beginning to fray at its edges. However, when decorated for the holidays, it held a warmth, a perfection, even. In the corner of the living room sat a small Christmas tree Dean had bought, its evergreen branches decorated with garland and strung cranberries. They both hadn't had much money to spare for gifts, and as a result planned to spend the day together.

Breakfast consisted of cinnamon rolls Dean made from a recipe his mother gave him before he left. As anticipated once the smell of the pastries filled the house, they were delicious. Gooey and sugary, the rolls proved to be perfect compliment to the french pressed coffee Castiel had fallen in love with. After their bellies were full and sated, the two sat on the couch before the fireplace and turned on the radio, listening to a combination of Christmas carols and the news. Between a few of the more popular songs, it was announced in the news that Heinrich Himmler had been appointed chief of the SS, an organization under the Nazi party. Although it didn't matter much to Dean or Castiel, as they weren't vested into politics, they were content to hear the news. They, like all other citizens in Germany at the time, believed Hitler would be a good leader to help them out of the economic crash caused that October by the fall of Wall Street in the States. As far as the two men were concerned, things were going well in their new country.

The rest of the day progressed on slowly, and after a light lunch of cheese and crackers, Dean and Castiel went for a walk. It was snowing in soft flurries around their jacketed bodies, the precipitation melting when it hit the ground. They talked about various things, about their jobs and about home, about memories and about the future. Halfway into their walk, however, the snow turned to rain, prompting them to seek shelter in a small gazebo in the park they had ended up at.

"It's colder today than yesterday," Castiel commented, blowing a warm channel of air into his cupped, mitten covered hands. Dean nodded in agreement and pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose, feeling warmer the instant he did. They sat in silence for a while, watching the people around them, before Dean suddenly broke the silence.

"I think you're beautiful, you know that?" He said. Castiel laughed softly at Dean's antics and looked to him curiously, prompting a further explanation. "I'm just happy we were able to come here and live together," Dean continued, shrugging, "I know it seems ordinary, the life we're living, but I couldn't be happier."

Castiel smiled, his eyes scrunching up at the corners the way they only did when he was truly joyful. "Neither could I," he replied, reaching forward to give Dean's hand a quick squeeze before retreating. "Truly."

When the rain let up, the two men returned to their apartment and began cooking dinner. It wasn't anything fancy or extravagant, as they hadn't made any good friends to invite over for the occasion; it was just them. Both adept in the kitchen, they together cooked a small ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, and spiced cranberry sauce. While waiting for the meal to cook, they amused themselves by listening to the radio, playing cards, and reading. The hours luckily dragged by, giving them adequate time together in their day off of work. Once their meal was ready, they laughed, conversed, and ate until they couldn't stand another bite. Stomachs slightly distended, they cleared the table and eventually made their way over to the couch, collapsing onto it with simultaneous groans from being too full.

The radio played softly in the background to accompany the gentle sound of the fire crackling before them, creating a quiet atmosphere to wind down in. Castiel had his head laying upon Dean's shoulder, letting his boyfriend's fingers card through his hair as the German version of _Silent Night_ played. After the second verse, Dean began singing along softly, the sound filling the air around them, creating a feeling of safety and belonging, one they would later find they took for granted. However, in that moment, they were nothing but happy as the radio program ended, leaving silence to allow them to cherish each other's company.

"Merry Christmas," Castiel whispered, sitting up to press a chaste kiss against the Winchester's lips.

"Merry Christmas, Cas."


	2. Hike

_**((Hey guys! So sorry it's been ages since I've updated this fic, I've been really struggling with depression lately, as well as school, work, and general fatigue. However, I am proud to announce I've officially overcome my writer's block and some of my depression, and am back to weekly updates on this fic. Thanks so much for all the lovely support, I hope you enjoy this! Oh, by the way, the format in which I've chosen to write this may get a bit confusing, so please remember to pay attention to the dates before each section, as there are flashbacks/memory segments. Dean and Castiel, as mentioned in the summary, went to college from 1924-1928. They spent 1928-1929 getting ready for the move, and moved mid 1929. The new year, 1930, has just arrived when this chapter begins. I hope that all makes sense! Also, I've had to change the date of their arrest in the summary due to details I missed previously in my research. So, instead of being arrested in 1935 as the summary said, they will now be arrested in 1941. Sorry about that! Anyhow, I'll stop my rambling. Enjoy!))**_

* * *

_January 30, 1930_

_ Dear Mom,_

_ Living here has been really interesting so far. Cas and I have both settled in to our jobs, and have even found a few friends to occupy our free time. Being room mates has certainly been different, but not bad. Berlin is so vastly different from Kansas you wouldn't believe it. There's never a dull moment, with things going on all hours of the day. How are things over there? I miss you all. I've been worried about Dad's job since the crash, things seem pretty bad over there. It's bad over here as well. This week alone I've had to fire five people from the factory. I regret having this task fall on my shoulders, but it's all part of the job, which I'm grateful to still have. Cas is stable in his job, luckily. His editor says he might even get to begin writing columns for the news section. We are both very excited at the opportunity of everything here, even despite the hard times everyone seems to have fallen on. I hope Sammy is doing fine in his preparation to go off to college, I know he was so excited to go out to Stanford. I'll try to find more time to write, give everyone my well wishes for the new year._

_ Your son,_

_ Dean_

Setting down the black and silver fountain pen he'd used to scribe the words, Dean fanned the air over his letter to help the ink dry. He'd learned the hard way, a few years previous, ink had to have time to set. After finishing an important English midterm, he was ignorant enough to place other papers atop it, and as a result smudged the whole of his carefully crafted essay. A shameful amount of cursing later, he realized he should always give extra time for drying, and never again forgot.

A nostalgic feeling blooming in his chest at the memory, Dean folded his letter and slipped it into an envelope, sealing it quickly to avoid the taste. It was true, he did miss home, and adjusting to a new place was incredibly difficult, but with Castiel by his side, it was easier. In fact, if he thought back to it, everything was easier since Castiel showed up in his life.

* * *

_January 18, 1924_

Dean was walking to class in the early hours of the morning, trying to avoid his third tardy that month when he suddenly felt his feet go out from under him. Turned out rushing over slick ice wasn't the best idea, he thought bitterly as tried to get up without embarrassing himself further.

"Are you alright?"

Well, there went the avoidance of embarrassment. Looking up, ready to jump on the defensive due to his humiliating fall, Dean's gaze was met by wide, concerned blue eyes, which belonged to a rumpled looking boy whose dark hair was in as much disarray as his sweater. "Yeah, fine, thanks," Dean replied gruffly, shifting to a squatted position to gather his scattered things.

"Snow's pretty bad this year, huh?" The boy said, kneeling beside Dean to help with the clean up.

"Yeah, it is," Dean replied, taking a stack of papers from the boy's outstretched grip as he fought down a red blush. "Look, thanks, but I've really got to be getting to class," he continued, standing with an internal wince at his sore tailbone.

The boy paused for a moment, as if a question hung on the edge of his lips, but seemed to dismiss it, simply nodding his welcome. Taking that as a farewell, Dean headed quickly off to class, sighing in relief when he made it through the door with just seconds to spare. English 101 was, as always, excruciatingly boring. Listening to the 70-something professor drone on about the intricacies of Shakespeare's early works was always a surefire sleep aid; in fact, instead of counting sheep, Dean had taken to imagining his lectures. Thankfully, however, the class was over in an hour, finally allowing Dean the freedom of a weekend long overdue.

Taking careful steps once he was outside again, the Winchester headed for his dorm, the only unpleasant aspect of the walk being the bitter cold. That was, until he found himself on the ground once more. Confused for a few seconds as to what, or rather who, knocked him to the ground, Dean looked to his side, surprised to find the same blue-eyed boy on the ground next to him, a baseball held in his hand.

"My apologies," he said, standing to offer Dean his baseball-free hand, "I over estimated the catch," he continued, gesturing to another boy in the distance with whom he'd been playing.

Dean was a bit put off by being knocked over, and had opened his mouth to reply with something smart when he noticed the sincere regret in the other's eyes. "Um, you know what, it's fine. Happens all the time," he replied with half a smile. "Guess it's just not my day for walking."

The boy smiled at that, the expression almost endearingly awkward. "Guess so," he agreed lightly, extending his hand. "I don't think I learned your name earlier."

Taking the hand proffered to him, the Winchester shook it firmly as he was always taught to, replying with a simple, "Dean."

"Nice making your acquaintance, Dean. I'm Castiel."

"Castiel. That's quite the mouthful," Dean replied, releasing the shake to readjust the disorganized papers still in his cold grasp. "Do people ever shorten it?"

"Not usually," Castiel replied, shrugging under the size-too-big sweater that looked like it hadn't been smoothed out since 1910. "But I guess it wouldn't be a problem."

Dean smiled, ignoring the then persistent beginnings of pain in his tailbone. "Cas it is, then."

* * *

_January 30, 1930_

Pulled from his memories by the sound of the front door squeaking open, Dean smiled at Castiel as he entered, snow dusted almost artfully upon his shoulders.

"Good afternoon, handsome," Castiel greeted with a smile, the expression highlighting his cold flushed cheeks.

Rising from the chair he was seated in, Dean picked up the letter he had just sealed and crossed the room to give his boyfriend a light kiss. "You're happy," he commented, to which Castiel nodded.

"I was told today that if I kept up at the good rate I'm at, I'll be working the news columns sooner than they thought."

Beaming, Dean pulled Castiel into a hug. "That's great," he replied softly, the warmth in his voice matching the coziness in the apartment. "See? I told you people would like your writing."

Castiel simply smiled at that, giving Dean a grateful look before going to slip off his jacket. "What've you got there?"

Dean looked to the small parcel in his hand, holding it up for a better view. "Just a letter home. I was going to go send it now, actually," he replied, reaching around Castiel to grab his coat, slightly puzzled when the other pulled his back on.

"I'll go with you," Castiel explained at Dean's questioning glance, buttoning up his coat once again.

The walk was a rare one, as it was through snow. According to their neighbors, snow didn't stick often in the city. However, Dean and Castiel were used to the slick-soft pressurized crunch beneath their boots, and used the short few blocks to discuss the upcoming year. Everything seemed generally positive. Their jobs were fairly secure, and they had an affordable apartment and a low living cost; simply put, they were lucky. Moving across the globe tended to be a financially taxing event, but due to Dean's college-prepared business savvy, they'd made a workable budget before making the journey, and as a result were some of the better off immigrants. The future, they agreed by the time they'd made it back to the apartment, held nothing but opportunity and freedom.

Stepping into the warmth of the living space they happily shared, Dean and Castiel hung up their coats, both gravitating toward the fireplace they'd left on during their short walk to the post office.

"It sure is cold out there," Dean commented, holding his hands out before him to warm.

Nodding, the glanced at Dean, wrapping an arm around his waist a moment later. "It is," he agreed, eyes lightening with the humor of an unshared joke.

Catching the look in his boyfriend's features, Dean turned to him, curious. "What?"

"I was just remembering that day we got lost on that hike. It was colder, I think."

* * *

_February 13, 1924_

Dean and Castiel had been spending time together for a little under a month. After exchanging their respective names, they'd bumped into each other a few other times on campus, soon deciding it was best if they got to know each other. So, they'd gone out with groups of peers, went on double dates with pretty girls, and played catch between classes, naturally becoming fast friends.

It was a brisk afternoon when they planned the hike. The weather was due to remain clear for the weekend, prompting Castiel to suggest a walk around the woods that nearly bordered the campus. Dean was hesitant at first, as he never was one to do much hiking, but caved at the mention a few girls had agreed to come along. However, although the skies remained clear the day of the trip, the temperature dropped considerably, causing the girls and the rest of their newly formed group of friends to back out.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Two hours at the most," Castiel persuaded, pack already slung on his back as he stood outside Dean's dorm room.

Sighing, the Winchester grabbed his pack off a nearby desk, pointing a finger at his friend. "Two hours," he confirmed, following Castiel out of the building, who was defending himself with the false reassurance, "It isn't even that cold out."

Turned out, it _was_ that cold. But, Dean, never being one to back out of something once he'd begun it, simply pulled his thick jacket tighter around his body as they entered the woods. "Only you'd suggest a hike in the middle of winter," he commented over a smirk, looking over to his friend. "There's nothing to look at but dead branches and frozen streams."

"It's nice to get some fresh air, though, isn't it?" Castiel replied, looking around him with a peace Dean hadn't yet seen.

Dean shrugged, a branch snapping obnoxiously beneath his shoe. "I guess."

The following hour of the hike was generally silent, save for the occasional complaint from Dean or the excited comment from Castiel when he'd spotted a beaver or deer. However, after the promised two hours, Castiel's excitement was dampened by how cold he'd gotten. Although they'd left campus at a decent time, the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, causing the temperature to drop another degree or two.

"Come on, Cas," Dean said, breaking the silence between them. "Let's head back."

Castiel nodded instantly in agreement, giving an awkward smile to Dean. "Sorry, I didn't expect it to get this cold."

"Now he admits it," Dean muttered under his breath, the jab seeming serious until a playful glint arose in his eye.

So, they began their walk out of the woods. At first everything seemed familiar, Dean and Castiel chatting about their upcoming week. That was, until the terrain became rough and uneven, Dean nearly slipping down a steep bank into an icy creek.

"Dean," Castiel said, confusion clear in his usually confident expression, "do you remember where we turned back there when we came?"

Dean thought for a long moment, the memories a jumbled mess of various animal sightings, dead branches, and dried leaves. "I don't remember," he replied, nervousness showing through his tone ever so slightly.

Both unable to place exactly where they were, the two walked on in an agreed direction, the land more even as they headed forward. However, even with the terrain no longer an issue, the sun had dipped lower in the sky by then, the long shadows cast in the early evening making the task of remembering where they were all the more difficult.

By the time it had grown dark enough for the two to be well and truly lost, Castiel turned to Dean, expression apologetic. "I thought we were going the right way," he said, a full body shiver running through him as a cold breeze ran through the trees.

Dean, again, wanted to retort with something smart, but held his tongue, knowing he too was responsible for watching their route. "We both did," he reassured with a hint of a smile, not wanting to make his new friend feel bad. "C'mon, I don't think we'll find our way out by night," he continued, facing up to the facts of the situation. "We've got to find some sort of shelter."

Licking his lips nervously, a poor habit he knew he should break, Castiel concurred with a nod, glancing behind his shoulder. "Didn't we pass a rock overhang a while back?"

"I think so," Dean agreed, memory conjuring up the image of a formation that barely categorized as a cave. However, it would do. So, before it was fully dark, the two boys backtracked slightly, finding their shelter for the night just as the sun dipped behind the horizon.

"I brought some bread and fruit, if you want some," Castiel offered, pulling out a few items from his backpack as they sat under the overhang, leaves crunching beneath them.

Dean accepted and they ate, shivering in silence, the only sound around them the occasional rustle of leaves, which they could only hope was a mouse or rabbit.

"Look," Dean started after a long while, fingers feeling numb and sore, "I think we should try to get some sleep. Maybe we should lean up against each other? I don't really want to lay on the cold ground."

"Alright," Castiel agreed, shifting so he was back to back with Dean, his head resting on his friend's jacket-padded shoulder. It was quite comfortable, until the breeze started up again. Thinking this was the coldest discomfort he'd ever felt and would ever feel, the blue-eyed boy sighed, shifting around to face his shivering friend. "I think," he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, "I think we should try to share warmth."

Dean looked to his friend as best he could in the near pitch blackness, confused at his meaning. "You mean- cuddling?" He asked, face heating up despite the air around them.

Castiel shook his head quickly. "No, just- Sharing warmth. If we don't, we could be at risk for hypothermia. I learned about it in my history class."

Dean paused, fully embarrassed at the situation they found themselves in. However, losing the tips of his fingers didn't sound better, so he nodded quickly despite the fact his friend probably couldn't see. "Okay," he agreed, shifting over to weave an awkward hand through the crook of Castiel's arm. It took a bit of maneuvering, but soon the two were close enough to share some warmth, their fingers slowly thawing under each other's limbs.

After a few rigid minutes, Dean forced himself to relax, Castiel following suit a moment later. Laying his head down upon his friend's shoulder, the Winchester found his face close to the other's neck, breath puffing in warm mists of air against his jugular. Although he would never admit it, the closeness to his new friend felt nice. In fact, if he thought about it later, he would remember a warm pool forming in his stomach, something borne of shy attraction and the slightest bit of romance. However, at that time, he was just happy to be warm, and fell asleep soon after with little effort.

Castiel, however, could not find an easy way to make it to his dreams. His body was hyper-aware of every shift of Dean beside him, each tiny movement causing his heart rate to increase. He'd felt this feeling before, with girls, but never with another boy. Of course, he'd heard about homosexuals, but never put much thought into it, not until that night. However, his fatigue soon won over, prompting him to chalk everything up to the effects of the cold so he could finally get to sleep. Denial, though unhealthy, worked in the moment, allowing Castiel to drop into unconsciousness a few minutes later, his senses filled with the soft scent of Dean's shampoo.

They'd awoken the following morning to sunlight hitting their faces, prompting them to untangle as quickly as possible. It was a bit awkward at first, but soon they were back to walking, both talking while denying simultaneously in the back of their respective minds the situation they'd just been through. Turned out the daylight made things easier to navigate, and within minutes they found the path they'd come in on, both put off by the fact it was a mere half a mile from where they stayed the night. However, all disgruntlement aside, they made it back to the campus, summarizing the whole experience as a strange, uncomfortable adventure.

* * *

_January 30, 1930_

Dean sighed at the fond memory, leaning his head upon Castiel's shoulder just as he had that night. "I was so cold," he commented. "Still can't believe you dragged me out there."

Castiel's lips twitched at the hint of a smile, his hand squeezing Dean's hip gently. "You agreed to come," he retorted, licking his lips in the habit he'd never broken. "Besides, it was certainly a nice way to get closer."

Dean let out an incredulous, playful scoff. "You've no idea how embarrassed I was."

"I do," Castiel replied, shifting to give Dean a tender kiss. "But I think we're okay now."

Dean smiled. "Me too."


End file.
